8- of Maasai, Sukuma, and life in the village

...we need to stop trying to domesticate God or confine Him to tiny categories and compartments that reflect our human sentiments rather then His inexplicable ways... {francis chan}

I, for one, know that I am certainly guilty of trying to place God in a compartment that I can somehow fit my finite mind around.  My poor little brain wants to figure everything out in a way that makes sense, and I'm reminded {again} that this is a type of unbelief and totally uncalled for in one who wants more then anything to be recklessly abandoned to this God of the Universe.  I'm so human and the big ME just gets in the way so often.  I feel tired, or stressed, or misunderstood, or emotional, or overwhelmed.  I focus on the mountains in my life and whine to myself that I'll never get over them... I'll never know Swahili fluently and be brave enough to really communicate.  Or, when my brain gets weary of spending day after day working with patients and their many ailments- then the clinic can really begin to look like a insurmountable mountain.  Today I'm reminded of the beautiful promises "I will lift up my eyes to the hills from whence cometh my help.  My help cometh from the Lord, the Maker of Heaven and earth".

In my last update I wrote about the dust and the longing for rain.  2 weeks ago, on a Sunday evening much like this one...we got rain!  It was not just a few sprinkles either, it was torrents of rain.  Water pouring from the sky and running down the trails.  We were all together eating supper together when the glorious sound swept across the tin roof and our supper items were abandoned in the delight of singing in the rain.  That night we waded home in the pouring rain, wading through ankle deep streams and not caring at all at how soaked we were getting.  It rained delightfully again on Monday, but that was the end of the rain spell.  After a few days the dust began building up again and with the addition of humidity, the days have seemed even hotter.  But yesterday beautiful lightening and glorious thunder ripped through the valley once again, and so we watch for rain to come again soon.

With the rain and the threat of more coming in the near future, our village has turned into a flurry of activity as roofs are repaired or entirely redone.  Many people weren't prepared for those two rain falls and experienced some cold, wet nights.  Houses are being quickly erected as the building season is soon over and we look forward to rain and everyone being busy in their farms.

Clinic has been very busy.  They come in streams, filling my little waiting room and one by one coming back to share their ailments and problems with the mzungu (white) nurse whom they are SURE can help them.  The nurse stretches her brain- asking questions and analyzing physical symptoms and all the while desperately trying to understand as much Swahili as she can.  She wrack's her brain over the challenging symptoms that point to something beyond the scope of practice here and sometimes finally has to tell them that she can't help them. Other times she quickly finds the complaints to line up to a fairly common disease or illness and can give some direction on a cure.   Yes, this nurse finds herself almost constantly pulled and stretched w.a.y. far out of her comfort zone and at times wonders whatEVER ailed her to think she could do this.

I enjoy my "hands-on" patients much more then just my diagnosing ones, as I feel like I can actually do something.  Things like prenatals and wound/burn care...speaking of which, I have two rather interesting bandage patients right now, both of whom I've been working with for some time.  The one came to me in July or August with 3 of his fingers on his left hand black and completely dried up.  It was gangrene like I had never seen before- no smell, no pus- nothing but dried out, black skin pulled tight over bone. Over the process of time, he asked us if we'd be willing to help him financially be able to go out to the Ifisi hospital and get those fingers amputated, which we did.  Now, he's been back for a number of weeks and I've been working at healing off the amputated stumps.  It's been a lot of fun to watch them healing nicely, but most of all we share the gospel and pray that he will be attracted to Jesus through our lives and testimony.  Our goal in helping these people physically is to give them a reason to believe that Jesus truly is real!   My other patient is an older gentleman who was brought to me a number of weeks ago by a good friend of ours.  His wound was on the foot, and a good 1/3 of the top of his foot was one open, raw mess.  Upon closer inspection, I realized that his big toe had completely died and was causing the *incredibly* foul smell that went everywhere this poor man went.  While they collected money to take him to town to have that toe amputated (after he asked if I would just be able to cut it off :-o), I continued to treat the wound.  Last week he returned after the amputation and I'm working at healing it off completely.  It's going to take quite awhile yet, but I've been so encouraged by the healing I've been seeing taking place.

A delightful part of life lately is that mangoes are now in season!  It's truly a miracle after having very little fresh produce unless we went to town, and to now have mangoes by the ox cart load pulling into kilabuni.  We got some to can and when all of us get together and pitch in, we have a lot of fun and get work done fast!

Last Saturday we decided to take off clinic and go to Itumbula to visit our Maasai friends.  One of them just had a baby and since Trudy is soon going to be leaving on furlough, she really wanted a chance to see the baby.  Teresa, Trudy, and I headed out on pikipiki's, but mine soon strung a leak in the back tire, so I ended up sitting by the road under a tree while the other one took Teresa and Trudy on.  They ended up completely laid over in a mud hole, I later found out, but thankfully escaped with only minor scratches.  Once I joined them, we walked about 15 minutes further into the bush where we spent a delightful few hours with our friends.  It was so fun to see them again and enjoy the new baby as well as the rest of the children.    We stopped by another patient of mine on the way home and greeted them- definitely a worthwhile day!

Yesterday, we decided to do the same thing, except this time we went a different direction out into the bush from Itumbula.  This time it wasn't just Teresa, Trudy, and I, but Zack and Warren as well and we weren't in search of our Maasai tribal friends, but our Sukuma tribal friends. (Sukuma are cattle herders, and live out on the bush in order to have room for their cattle.  They're a rich tribe.) Ever since I was involved with the Sukuma lady that we took to town with a transverse lying fetus in early July, I've been wanting to go visit them and it was finally happening! I was a bit nervous as we set out on foot in the general direction of some known Sukuma camps. I really had no idea where we were going, and no specific's on where these people actually lived.  I felt a bit vulnerable, knowing that this was my idea and if the day turns out to be a flop and we're just led on a goose trail, then it was my fault and I had gotten everyone else involved.  I prayed that God would direct us and lead us to the right place.  As we walked upon several other Sukuma compounds, we asked if they knew the people we were looking for, and they kept pointing us on further, so I decided we must be in the right general area!

About 45 minutes into our walk out into the middle of nowhere, we came upon a large clearing with quite a few houses in a compound.  As we walked toward the direction of their gate, I noticed a woman coming to meet us.  Trudy was sure it was Sai {my patient from July}, but she had to get a bit closer before I actually realized that YES, it was her! And behind her came a crowd of very excited women and children.  What an incredible welcome we got- hugs (which is a bit different then we Americans are used too- but just as special!  It's an arms length hug with a corresponding "wah-oh" sound being vocalized by both people.) and more hugs.  I immediately spotted the baby whom had caused the whole meeting, and snatched her up in my arms.  Darling little girl she is, and way too cute.  We were grandly ushered into a hot little room as the greetings continued.  I was never quite able to figure out how and if the people were all related, but that really didn't matter.  The children came in streams, standing there watching and grinning shyly when I acknowledged them and greeted.  I noticed that none of the children responded to my traditional Swahili greeting, and later realized that they don't know Swahili.  The adults laughed and smiled in a jolly fashion and proudly brought their babies for us to hold.  We held babies and practiced kiSukuma greetings and learned more about their families and culture.  They soon informed us that a goat was being butchered in honor of our visit, which felt so humbling as that is about the highest honor one can give their guests.  This people group are a rich people, so it's not as much a sacrifice for them as it would be for our Sichela neighbors, but it's still humbling to accept such high blessings from them.

Hours passed.  People meandered in and out, and sometimes we were left to ourselves which resulted in interesting, random conversations.  Around 5:30, huge platters of rice and goat meat were delivered and boy did we dig in.  By that time we were quite famished, and the food tasted absolutely amazing.  I'm pretty sure it was the best goat I've ever eaten.  After we finished, they packed up most of the leftover rice, as well as an uncooked goat thigh- hair, hoof and all- and packed it in the guys' backpack.  We were escorted by most of the crew a good 10 minutes down the trail where long, drawn out goodbyes were processed.  Pictures were snapped, hugs and handshakes given, promises made for more communication...and off we walked.  I turned around one last time to wave a goodbye, and they all responded in unison.  As we walked out to Itumbula, my heart was full.  very full.  It's amazing finding yourself so at home and so welcomed among a people as different from yourself as they are.  It's incredible to feel connection, and to walk away with an incredible burden that they would find the TRUTH and that the truth would set them free.   We were admiring the incredible cloud formations in the sky as we walked, and I made a comment about how that would be the absolute perfect cloud for Jesus to come back on.  But then my thoughts went to my dear friends I had just left behind and realized that as badly as I want to go to Heaven, I don't want Jesus to come back until they've had the opportunity to know Him as well.

I feel at a low point in language learning right now. My current stage feels so confused and tough, as I understand so much of what is being said around me, but yet when I want to talk, I feel like Swahili is one humongous mixed-up conglomeration in my piddly little brain.  I open my mouth and the wrong tense comes out.  Or a word I can normally pronounce just fine when I'm practicing on my own becomes twisted and very ungracefully tumbles out and falls flat.  I sigh and long for the day when I'm more fluent and have been making an effort to spend more time in study and reading.  Which of course means that something else has to suffer- I don't get out to visit our neighbors much these days it seems, because til clinic hours are over, and the general house work is completed and I make time for language study...I find my days flying by at an unedifying rate of speed.  Anyways, all that to say that I could really use prayer to keep pressing on.

And so, this concludes an update on my life.  Please keep our mission team in your prayers as we face a lot of changes over the next few months with Tim and Sheryl and their family leaving on furlough in early January.  Many changes and some rotating personnel will be keeping life interesting around here.  I'm so thankful for my wonderful support team- I NEED y'all!

an ambassador for Christ, Kim

7 ...of dry season delights, and dreaming of rain...

Hi there!  Yes, it's me, I'm still alive.  Very much alive, even tho I feel like I might soon be looking like a dried out prune.  But even prunes have their strong points, and so maybe that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.  :-o   The wind whisks briskly over the parched earth, picking up whirlwinds of dust and flinging it uncaringly in any direction.  I gingerly pull back the top sheet of my bed, watching the layer of dust drift to the floor, joining the rest of it's gritty counterparts crunching beneath my flip flops.  My eyes smart with the presence of the sandy intruders. We sweep and clean, only to have the next gust of wind coat everything in a fine layer of dust all over again.  The wind means rain is coming.  But it could be a full month before we see rain, and this layer of dust the earth is caked in will no longer be flung haphazardly about.  I think I shall need a double dosage of grace to "give thanks in everything" these next few weeks.  I was kind of failing in the thankful part today, and was suddenly reminded that God has important lessons for me to learn even through the seemingly carnal, earthly annoyance of dry season in Ivuna.  I decided it's necessary to choose to focus on the good and make the most of these weeks of longing for RAIN! 

Yes, we long for rain- physical rain to water the parched ground and bring life to the dried out soil but even more so we long for the rain of the Spirit of the living God to be poured out in abundance upon us and our people here in Ivuna.  That the waters of LIFE would be opened in torrents upon the bone-dry existence that satan and his legions have had free reign over.  That they would be forced to give in to the Almighty God who is all powerful and has already won the battle over hell and the grave.  I'm so glad to be on the winning side! 

It happens in small ways- sprinkles of rain that sink into the parched ground and you wonder if you'll ever see fruit.  A genuine smile and gentle touch to a sad soul.  A bandage and word of encouragement to another person. A bottle of water to a dehydrated village outcast that no one else cared about. Taking time to really hear what's going on in the lives of a patient or two and taking an extra moment to pray with them and point them to the Living Water. Singing songs about the power of the blood to a stricken village "crazy man" (crazy because the demons have destroyed his life) who is now laid up with a terrible broken leg that no one seems very active about caring for. Striving to live a life of holiness and purity that points people to the One you serve, and praying that your own insecurities and mistakes will be diminished in the light of Jesus Christ shining through.   It's amazing how Jesus works through us poor, weak human beings with dusty feet and messy, wind-blown hair.  

It happens in bigger ways- when a shower of the life giving rain drenches a soul.  Such as last Sunday.  It was a hot, stuffy morning and I was tired.  The service got a bit long for this brain that doesn't exactly follow Swahili with ease yet.  Toward the end of the service, Kredo mentioned a friend of his that has been having problems with demon activity and wanted us to together and pray for her. It was sad to see the bondage Mele found herself in- so many things she wasn't allowed to do by command of the demons (a few of these included not eating catfish, pork, or pombe, not being allowed to go to her father's house, and not being allowed to see a dead body).  About two years ago, her father became a witchdoctor, and that is how long it's been since Mele's been plagued with demons.  Tim was explaining how she needs to have a desire to follow Christ, and prayed with her.  She was attacked by her demons during this time, and certain words would get stuck in her throat as Tim was leading her in prayer.  It was exciting to see them cast out and watch Mele relax after it.  After some time of talking and sharing with her- encouraging her to be serious about following Jesus and to seek Him actively- we headed home.

This week we have been actively seeking Mele out, visiting with her and asking her how she's doing.  It's been exciting watching her actively taking steps to announce to the spirit world that she is following Jesus, things like going to her father's house on purpose and telling him that she's following Jesus now, and finding catfish to eat.  Tim, of course, took the opportunity to tell her that drinking pombe is still not the way of Jesus.  Her eyes are beautiful, shining and clear, and she's welcomed Trudy and I sweetly every time we stop by to visit her.  PRAY for Mele... while her soul has been freed from the bondage of her captors, the battle is only beginning and she needs the body of Christ, both far and near, to gather around her and stand in the gap for her.  

Two weeks ago, after a week in town, we were headed back to Ivuna again, all of us (excluding our visitors who were now back in their own homes) were piled back into the Land Rover along with our "appealing" conglomeration of luggage loaded both inside the vehicle and strapped to the top.  Judging by some of the stares we received along the way, it must have been a funny sight.  We were at our first stop in Mbeya, taking care of some last minute town items, when Tim heard the sinking sound of a leak in the one tire.  Away we sailed to the tire shop, where we sat back and watched the men fix our tire.  Then back we were on the road again, headed to Mlowo.  But first, a stop at Ifisi to visit an old friend of the Zeiset's who was back for a visit in the country.  And again, we were back in the Rover, headed home.  Until Tim made a comment that no one wanted to hear- the clutch was slipping.  In Mlowo, Tim had a mechanic check it out while the rest of us ate rice and ugali and beans and greens at our favorite little "Mkulima Restaurant".  

The mechanic was not able to fix the problem, so Tim and his family decided to head back to Mbeya.  Trudy and I, feeling the need to get home and back to the clinic, grabbed our personal bags and loaded hastily on a lorry, meanwhile, feeling very sorry for Sheryl and Teresa who were bravely trying to accept their change of plans. By this time, all the Ivuna bound lorries were gone, and the only one left was one bound for Kamsamba.   As usual, the slogan "hurry up and wait" proved true in Africa, as it was over an hour before the lorry pulled out of Mlowo.  We took the slow route- stopping here and stopping there, no hurry whatsoever.  It was late before we got to the mountains, and by then I was not feeling well at all, neither was Trudy.  We hung over the bars and I was concentrating on not puking everywhere.  Darkness had long overtaken, and our feet were cramped as we had our backpacks in close proximity near by, keeping an eye on our electronics and money just pulled from the bank that morning.  But somehow, in the cover of the darkness, someone had an opportunity to steal Trudy's purse, along with her debit card and a wad of cash, from one of her outside backpack pockets.  Trudy began asking neighboring ladies and searching bags- and before long, the entire lorry was in an uproar.   The driver and his conductor began searching every bag and every inch of the lorry.  Eventually her wallet showed up, along with the debit card, but no money.  

I was sitting there in the inky blackness of the night, lit only by a handful of small lights of the village we found ourselves parked in and a few weak cellphone flashlights utilized by the occupants of the lorry.  I began to doubt that the money and the person carrying it were even on the lorry anymore, as they would've had a chance to escape by then.  But the men weren't about to give up, and after finding nothing in the luggage, decided to have each person step down one at a time and receive a body search.  I sat back on a huge sack of something somewhat soft and kept a tight hold on our luggage.  I prayed that God would help us to respond properly so that Jesus would be seen.   Suddenly an uproar ensued full of cheering and clapping and I guessed, correctly, that the money had been found.  It had been nearly an hour since Trudy had discovered her wallet was missing, and we were finally able to pile back on the lorry and continue our journey.  Later, somewhere down the road, we stopped again and had an entire lorry discussion about the situation, and with all the evidence presented, it was very clear that the hidden chunk of money located on the thief definitely was Trudy's.  Trudy also got a chance to share to the entire lorry that we've forgiven the woman, and it's not the money we're most concerned about, it's her soul.  

We arrived in Itumbula around 11:30 pm, and had to get off the lorry.  It rumbled off the direction opposite Ivuna in a flurry of dust and lights, leaving us sitting with our luggage in the middle of a very deserted village center area.  Eventually Warren and another piki driver arrived on motorcycles and transported us the last 15 minutes to our home.  How VERY welcoming home looked, even tho it was positively filthy and it was so late.  

It's now Sunday afternoon, warm and intense.  Teresa and I got our heads together and made a pot of luke-warm coffee, (since it was a bit of a stretch to call it iced coffee) and we're all engaging in meaningful quality time with our communication devices (aka laptops).  :)  Once the intensity of the afternoon sun isn't quite so sharp, we'll go to the next village of Kalungu to do some door to door evangelism.

::before the world, aye, before the sleepy, lukewarm, faithless, namby-pamby christian world, we will dare to trust our God.  We will venture all for Him and we will do it with His joy unspeakable singing aloud in our hearts.  C.T.Studd::

Keep us in your prayers.  and remind me of that sometimes- i love hearing from the other side of the world! 

Because of Jesus,

Kim

6- ...of travel, and patients, and life's little blessings...

One thing I find myself thankful for tonight is the fact that even when Jesus was living His life in ministry here on this earth, He needed time to go apart awhile and reconnect with His Father. That has given me so much encouragement as I felt myself wearing down from the stress of responsibility and greatly looking forward to a time of relaxation and refreshment in town. We're back in Mbeya this week... Tim, Sheryl and their family, along with Trudy, Teresa, and I. It's amazing how many things have to be done while we're out here tho, and I'm find that even here I need to remind myself that I must take time to rest. Sometimes rest means sleeping, other times it means journaling and spending time with God, and yet other times de-stressing comes from gales of laughter with Teresa over a Hershey chocolate bar and emotional memories of home and people.

We came out Monday, along with Crystal Kauffman, whose family lives here in Mbeya and Sheryl's parents who were here for 10 days visiting. We 4 girls begged Tim to let us ride on top of the Land Rover (picture below) and he let us! :) Away we bounced out of Ivuna, positioning ourselves on the totes, spare tire, and whatever felt most comfortable. We reveled in the sheer freedom of the wind in our face, and the fact that we were sitting above the avalanche of dust brought on by those dusty roads. We sang out hearts out, laughed a lot, and talked as the kilometers melted away and villages disappeared behind us. In Utambalia, Tim made us get off, because as we get closer to town, we'll find police who aren't exactly thrilled about 4 wazungu riding a top a Land Rover. It made me grumpy at first, squashing into the back of the Land Rover, shifting heavy back packs and trying to not smash the feet of our neighbors as we got comfortable, but then I realized that the next few hours would be much more enjoyable if I accepted the fact. So I tried. But it was still not nearly as lovely as riding on the top!

The past few weeks since my last update have been very, very full. My life has been packed to the brim of people. People in the morning, people in the afternoon, people in the evening. I love being immersed with the village people. I love caring for them, interacting with them, and all the opportunities it brings me to stretch my Swahili and learn more. I love being with the missionary team and finding strength and encouragement from one another and from the Lord. I do love people and my life would be incredibly unfulfilled and absolutely boring without them. But at the same time, I found myself struggling to care last week. As another morning would dawn and my awful alarm clock would signal to my hazy brain that a new day was beginning, I would groan and dread the thought. My clinic mornings were very, very busy and not just with “easy” cases like prenatals and wound care. Case after case of fevers and other intense diagnosing situations came into my little clinic room until my brain was about to fry. Actually, I think it did sometimes. After 3-4 hours of intense interaction with patients, we would find ourselves finally ready to lock the clinic and come home. Trudy and I would cook up a quick lunch of rice and beans and most days we would have people in and out of our house the entire afternoon. Which, I loved, as it was friends and neighbors who weren't there looking to me as a professional to give them answers for their aches and pains, but it was still intense as I tried to follow conversations and give simple input where I could. My brain literally HURTS these days!! :) Between that, Trudy and I try to keep up with the housework and laundry, but it's not at all uncommon to not even get our lunch dishes washed before the sun goes down.

I don't write this for pity at all. I love my life, I love the people, I even love learning my new language- even when I feel like I'm not getting anywhere. I just want to give a small glimpse into why it is a blessing to be in town this week. Away from constant 'hodi's', away from catching my breath every time a pikipiki comes close because it might be a burn patient, away from the demands and responsibilities. And that's why I'm glad that even Jesus needed a time of refreshment.

I wish I could bring each of you on a short waltz through the village.  I would introduce you to people- lots of them.  Because they're part of me now, and I wish you could know them!  I would take you to get chai and maandazi (tea and unsweetened doughnuts) from my favorite little chai shop run by the sweetest couple. (And in case you're wanting to know, a "chai shop" is nothing like a "coffee shop".  And, do I ever miss coffee shops!  Teresa and I love dreamily talking about by-gone days when coffee shops were a normal part of life...another life, much removed from the one we're privileged to be living right now.) But since you're not actually here with me, I guess I'll attempt to give you snapshots into what life means to me.

Morning's are pretty "normal".  The whole getting up ordeal, and spending the much needed connection time with Jesus before the hectic day begins.  If I have time before breakfast, I'll usually sweep a section of the courtyard, which is a very therapeutic task for me.  Early morning is the best time to sweep dusty courtyards as the sun hasn't hit it yet and a bit of the night coolness is making it somewhat heavier.  I still cough tho, as a lot of dust still is stirred up.

Clinic hours start at 9, so shortly before that hour, you'll find Trudy and I headed that direction, making our way through the village on any of the varied paths that lead us there.  We call out morning greetings to people along the way, answer "shikamoo's" from children who eagerly greet us, smile and holler "hujambo" to other children to yell our names as we pass by.  One of my main goals the past while with the children was to teach them by name, as I despise being called "mzungu" (white person)!  They're starting to learn that I respond a whole lot better to Kim then to mzungu. :)  At the clinic, we usually take time to sweep and wipe down the past day's accumulation of dust, straighten the sheet on the bed, and push back the curtain, letting the light shine in.  And then I start seeing patients.  It's at the point now, in my language comprehension, that I understand a fair amount of what they tell us.  I depend heavily on Trudy to be sure that I actually DID understand, but most of the time I do.  What is the bigger challenge at this point, is being able to communicate back to them.  A lot of the well-used, familiar phrases and questions I can, but anything beyond the basic questions I'm very lost in.  Even then, it takes a lot of guts to actually step out on my own and talk!

One evening after a day full of people in and out of our house, we had a lull in visitors and decided it was the perfect opportunity to go carry much needed water from the bomba (water tower). Trudy, Teresa, and I each grabbed a bucket and a khanga and set off down the trail. I had a patient I wanted to check up on, who lived in the general direction of the bomba, so we decided to do that first. I wasn't quite sure where she lived, so we asked a group of ladies sitting by one of the houses. The one lady immediately jumped up and led us to her house, where she proceeded to carry her small son of the house. It was NOT the patient I had set out to find, but it was obvious that this child was much, much sicker then the one I was looking for. He was limp and quite spaced out, his entire body burning with fever, and not able to sit up at all. His neck hurt badly when being turned side to side, or put forward on his chest- and Teresa and I thought of either meningitis or cerebral malaria. Teresa VERY sweetly offered to run to the clinic (which happened to be all the way on the other side of the village) and get me the malaria tests. Upon her return, I did the test and it showed instantly positive for cerebral malaria. We sat with the family for awhile, giving instructions on medications and care for a child as sick as this guy was. It gave me shivers to think of how God directed this meeting was, and confirmed a blessing of following God's direction even in the little things. It was after dark until we left, long past the hour that the bomba closes, so we headed home with empty buckets bouncing on our arms. 

Approximately 2 months ago, in early July, I did a prenatal for our neighbor lady and estimated her due date to be in November.  After she left, Rebecca filled me in on her story a bit, and her inability to carry her babies full term.  She has one child alive, and has buried many, many tiny babies born entirely too young.  Deep in my heart I desperately hoped for a different ending to this pregnancy.  Part of me was hesitant to hope tho, knowing how incredibly hard these women work.  In the States, she would've been put on complete bed rest and monitored closely, but here...no matter how hard we try or how much we encourage, that just doesn't ever happen.  

Several weeks ago, Mama Ima came to me once again for a prenatal, this time with the disturbing news that she had lost a lot of water the day before.  (We later pieced together more of the story, and found out that her and Baba Ima were in a motorcycle accident which is probably what triggered the breakage of the water and inevitable danger to her child and herself.)  I did a quick prenatal check, and found that she measured exactly the same centimeters that she measured at her earlier prenatal check up, 6 weeks ago.  I also was very aware that she had very little fluid surrounding her baby.  The one bright spot of the prenatal was finding a good, strong heartbeat.  But, I knew that the tiny child to whom the heartbeat belonged was in imminent danger, and strongly encouraged her to go out to town to a facility equip for this type of emergency.  Later that day, Trudy and I spoke with Baba Ima and enforced the same thing.  That evening, Baba Ima and Kredo, (Mama Ima's father, also a solid believer in our little church here), came to Tim's and Tim was able to lay out the seriousness of the situation and the quick decisions that needed to be made if both of their lives were to have a chance at surviving. 

      Baba Ima looked quite uncertain and unsure, like it almost wouldn't be worth it to even try.  Part of me tried to understand how he was feeling, not wanting to get his hopes up, only to be completely dashed and disappointed once again. Yet, on the other hand, I wanted to shake some sense into him and tell him to CARE about his wife for once. 

     The following morning while I was at the clinic, Sheryl texted me and said that after much convincing from Kredo, and nearly forcing Baba Ima to take Mama Ima out, they went.  Relief.  I prayed and hoped that she would have a chance to rest.

Saturday, Kredo delivered the news that Mama Ima gave birth to a tiny baby boy- who, at this point was alive!  I rejoiced that Mama Ima had made it to town before her labor had begun, and her tiny child had a chance to fight for life.  I prayed that this child would be able to live and Ima would have a brother.  

Tuesday morning we got word, from Tim and Sheryl who are in town that week, that Mama Ima's baby died during the night.  It felt like someone had punched me in the gut.  All that hoping. Praying. Building up possibility.  And then he didn't make it.  I can only imagine how Mama Ima's hopes must be dashed, yet again, as she returns to Ivuna with the shell of her latest baby.  She lost so many.  So many tiny graves around their house.

     Tim went into the hospital early that morning in hopes that they would let him in to visit and get a feel of the situation.  They let him and Baba Ima in, only to find out the sad news.  I'm so glad Tim was able to be there over that time and I pray he was able to minister peace and hope in Jesus to the grieving family.

      That evening around 7, we got wind that they had arrived back in Ivuna.  We went over to their house and joined the group of ladies forming there.  We settled ourselves on the mat in the dark house, and before long a stream of people came in, with Baba Ima in the lead.  

     Then, all the old ladies (who are responsible to bury babies) must have felt obligated to lift their voices and argue about when and where the baby should be buried.  Oh, what a din.  Finally, Kredo stood up and commanded some order to the hubbub.  Before long, I absolutely couldn't believe it, but they began digging the grave right inside the house!  That's right.  Just in the one corner, by the door.

     It was a shallow grave.  With a panga, Baba Ima hacked off a piece of a mat, then a large, pink bag was brought from the adjourning room.  I stared, astounded, as they began emptying the bag.  First banana's.  Then more food.  A bunch of clothes.  In the bottom, a heap of khanga's was very gently lifted from the bag and positioned on the lap of one of the old ladies.  She gently unwrapped the khanga's, finally exposing the incredibly tiny child within.  (He weighed barely 3 pounds.)

     That's when I lost it, and tears streamed unchecked.  I wondered why the tears, as I know where this sweet child is.  I *know* he is safe in Jesus arm's, forever safe from the awful effects of sin that plague his people.  It's not for the baby that I cry.  No, it's for his family.  The hope, the expectation that they, we, dared to allow to spring up in our hearts.  Dashed.  Broken to pieces once again.  Tears are shed because hope lies shattered.

    Tears are shed for the lostness of the souls that surrounded me in that dismal little hut.  The hopelessness, the finality, and the striking realization in my heart that his family will never see him again if they don't realize their lostness and need of a personal Saviour.   In that instant, life seemed so dark.  My soul felt a burden to heavy to bear.  I cried out to God to open the eyes of the blind and to set the captives free.  But for a moment, God seemed to have deserted this feeble band.

     I sank against the wall again as the old ladies continued their preparation for burial.  I really had no desire to watch the tiny body committed to the ground.  The door was open to the outside, and the golden harvest moon hung in beauty and splendor above the earth, bathing our village in it's gentle glow. In that moment, I felt the presence of God bathing my heart just like the full moon was bathing the earth. God had not forgotten us, He was very much there and very much alive. As well as very much interested in the pain this family was feeling.

The old women returned the dirt over the tiny, shallow grave and used water to smooth it out. Then it was left to dry, while everyone gathered around, listening to the story of Mama Ima and Mama Jose's trip. It was getting late and my head was beginning to swim, so I was catching very little of the Swahili going on. Eventually, I slipped out the door and sat on the step at the side of the house, staring at the moon and lost in a swirling myriad of thoughts until Teresa and Trudy were ready to go.

Remember in early July when I wrote about taking a woman with a transverse lying baby out to town in an emergency? Well, I had never been able to follow up on her and find out what had happened after we left her at the Ifisi hospital and came back to the village. One afternoon, she showed up on our doorstep with her adorable 2 month old baby girl- Membe. She informed us that she did end up having a c-section, as the baby had turned transverse again (if you remember, by the time we had gotten to town, the baby had turned head down). It took 2 months to find out I had made the right decision, but it was so good to hear. We are wanting to go to the Sukuma settlement where they live and spend sometime with them- I can't wait til it happens, and I've been aching to find out more about the many Sukuma who frequent my clinic. They have to be my favorite people group here.

It's about time to head down the Kauffman's house and enjoy a “girls night” with the single women staff here in Mbeya. We're all looking forward to it- it's fun to have other young people to connect with. Then tomorrow, Trudy, Teresa, and I head to Malawi to get Teresa's visa renewed for another 3 months. We're all looking forward to seeing a new country and I'm especially excited about getting a new stamp in my passport! :)

Life is full of small delights,  Things like lovely scented lotion slathered on dry, weary feet at the end of the day.  Like the "precious" pumpkin spice latte's Teresa made when I was greatly missing fall in America and the annual pumpkin spice craze. No, it wasn't "starbucks" perfect, but considering the setting, it was amazing!  An email or picture from dear people in America.  The beautiful evenings when a refreshing hint of coolness replaces the intense afternoon sun.  Standing out by the ball field with a host of village onlookers watching the intense game of football (known as soccer in America.).  The beautiful sound of the "ping" of canned beans sealing- they just must stay that way now!  The sound of my name being called out as I walk these paths.  The feeling of a sweet baby tied to my back.

Just in case you wanted to know, I love getting emails and hearing from y'all!

For Jesus, Kim

5-Ivuna news

Greetings from the dusty trails of Ivuna!  The trails upon which tread man and beast, of which you can never be quite sure which you'll meet next.  Maybe it'll be the goats, scampering playfully as they scrounge for any remnant of food left from rainy season; or the grunting, groaning, disgusting, nosy pigs.  Maybe it'll be the cows lumbering by, the menacing look of the bulls only heightened by the set of horns protruding grandly from their head, or the rooster, crowing with all it's stately dignity.  Most importantly tho', these trails are trudged by the beautiful people of Ivuna, and these people have names, problems, families, joys, sorrows, and souls.    Which, of course, is why I'm here.  

The other night we were discussing how easy it is to look on all the negativity around us, and allow ourselves to be drawn into that.  We easily dwell on the sadness, the pain, and the wickedness of the culture and people around us, and forget to rejoice in God through it all.  At times, we momentarily forget that if it wouldn't be for these needs and wickedness, there would be no need to be here in Ivuna.  It's very hard for me to know how to allow my heart to be broken with the things that break the heart of God, yet at the same time to walk in JOY, knowing that I am a child of God.  How can I carry the burden of the lost souls around me and intercede on their behalf, yet not allow myself to be dragged down with that same burden?  How can I most claim the reality of "casting all my cares upon Him", yet not become disconnected with the needs I see all around me?  I am learning some very intricate lessons in all of this these days, and long to learn it in a much deeper way.

The drama of sin escalates and diminishes around us on a regular basis, yet sometimes the escalation phase seems incredibly strong.  The last while has seemed very much that way, as we watch dear friends of ours make decisions that seems so incredibly wrong to us.  I watch it all unfold: the unfaithfulness in marriage, the wife beating, the drunkness, the neglect of children...  There are times that I wonder if it's really worth the pain of loving people.  Am I really making a difference?  Is it actually worth it?  Does it matter?  Emotionally, I flip flop back and forth between righteous indignation, to sheer anger as I see human beings mistreating other human beings- especially family members.   I remember the verse in Isaiah 45 where the Lord has promised "treasures of darkness, and hidden riches of secret places.."  I wonder despairingly whether or not there are treasures to be found here.  

And then God, in all His loving tenderness and faithfulness, redirects my gaze off the world around me and back onto His face, and I am reminded afresh that I was not made to carry this burden alone.  I am reminded that these are HIS people, and it's His Spirit that needs to work in their hearts- I need to do my part, but He has power unlimited to give me the grace to walk in joy, even in the midst of everything.  I came across this song in our song book a few weeks ago, and the words really put into writing what my heart cry is:

"Give me the faith which can remove and sink the mountains to a plain:

Give me the childlike, praying love which longs to build Thy house again;

Thy love, let it my heart o'er-power, let it my ransomed soul devour.

I would the precious time redeem and longer life for this alone-

To spend and to be spent for them who have not yet my Savior known;

Fully on these my mission prove and only breathe to breathe Thy love.

My talents, gifts, and graces, Lord, into Thy blessed hands receive-

And let me live to preach Thy word and let me to Thy glory live,

My every sacred moment spend in publishing the sinner's friend.

Enlarge, inflame, and fill my heart with boundless charity divine,

So shall I all my strength excel and love them with a zeal like Thine,

And lead them to Thine open side, the sheep for whom the Shepherd died."  -Charles Wesley

Sunday, the 24th, was a relaxing day for me- kept that way on purpose after a very busy week, and looking ahead to another busy week.  It was about 7:45 that evening, and we were all sitting around in various stages of alertness, trying hard to concentrate on an English message that Tim had on his computer.  In the distance, I heard the sound of approaching motorcycles.  My ears immediately perked up, as something in my gut feeling just knew they were headed my way.  Sure enough, a hurried stop outside the house and a frantic 'hodi' at the door, and this nurse and her interpreter headed off into the dark night.  We scurried across the village, transporting my very badly burned 3 year old patient to the clinic, where with the light of Tim's powerful flashlight, I began assessing the situation and cleaning him up.  I trimmed sheet after sheet of skin off his small, shivering body and marveled afresh at how much damage the hot pombe can do to a small, helpless child.  Justin barely struggled as I cleaned and bandaged his body- estimating him to be about 70% burned.  About an hour after their arrival, I had him bandaged to be the best of my ability, and I was able to step back and take notice of the crowd that had gathered.  3 motorcycles were parked outside, and probably 9 people were crowded in, watching my every move and groaning audibly as I plodded away on the poor child.  Anyways, to make a long story short, we ended up transporting them to the government clinic where people sometimes stay the night, and got him settled in there.  We went out and bought at IV kit and NS for the poor child, and the government clinic nurse whom we had aroused out of her house inserted it.  (A note to my nurse friends: don't judge me!  I have yet to insert an IV on skin so black, and at night and in such a dire case as this. I would have given it my best shot if I would have had no other choice, but was so thankful that the other woman was available!:)  It was almost midnight until we finally returned to our house and crashed for a few precious hours of sleep.  We were up again before dawn broke the next morning, running out to stendi to find a lorry to take my little patient and 2 women out to town.  I cringed as I looked at the incredibly FULL lorry that came through, and watched them lift the poor, poor child all the way to the top.  It made me rethink my "sending burn patients out" theory.  I felt very much like they would have a much better chance with me and my some what crude set up here rather then having to spend hours on a lorry on a rough ride to town. I've not heard how he's been doing now, and often wonder.  We gave them Trudy's phone number, in hopes that they would contact us.

Clinic varies so much from day to day.  Some days are very busy, and other days are much slower and relaxed.  I'm so thankful for both types of days.  It's good to be busy and to feel the day fly by, but at other times I just need a more relaxed pace.  I've been dealing with all manner of cases-  burns, lots of prenatals, pregnancy tests, fevers, you name it, I've probably tried to diagnose it.  

I've had several prenatal cases lately in which I found twins- which should be a reason to rejoice, right?  In this culture, it is not.  I don't yet fully understand all their superstitions and the spiritual aura that surrounds twins, but it is very intense.  They believe that twins are conceived supernaturally, and are basically straight from the devil.  Rarely do both twins survive to adulthood here.  We've used these opportunities to encourage them that twins are a gift from God and are something to be excited about!  It's not "just that easy" to change the minds of people who have been stuck in their "rut" of thinking for so long, but we continue to try and to pray for much wisdom from God.

Our house:  

We are moved back in, and as each day passes, a little more gets cleaned up or organized!  It's a lovely house- much nicer then I expected to live in here with the biggest blessing being the ceiling board which really helps cut down on the heat building up under the tin roof.  It feels big and empty as Trudy and I are the only ones living in it at the moment (and I'm still sleeping in my little hut across the path!), but once the other girls return from furlough, I'm sure it won't feel quite as empty!  We're waiting for shelves and cupboards to be built for our kitchen, so right now our pantry looks like partially organized confusion.  Hey, as long as we know where to find stuff, it'll do for now, right?! :)

Tonight while Trudy was putting together supper, I decided to work on cleaning up our courtyard some more.  We've gotten a lot done already, but there's always more after a huge project like this.  I started cleaning up bricks that were lying around and raking together brush and junk that found it's way on our property.  Before long a crew neighbor children in various shapes and sizes began showing up, and a few of them were more then willing to pitch in and help!  It was such a blessing to see the dust fly (literally!) and watch yet another portion of the courtyard become presentable.  

Last week, Trudy and I decided to rent piki's and ride out to Itumbula to try to track down a tiny patient and her mama who had come to our clinic the week before.  She was having troubles nursing her baby and her bottle was broken, so we gave her a new bottle and told her how to enrich the milk so sweet little Anavesta would get more of the needed nutrients.  We weren't quite sure where they lived, but we set out in hopes of meeting someone who would know who they were- and we did!  We were able to find little Anavesta and her mother and had a lovely visit with them.  They treated us like royalty- buying us sodas, and then sending us off armed with gifts of food.  It wasn't terribly fun to sit on the uncomfortable 3 gallon bucket that didn't have a lid, but it WAS fun to hold that tiny, darling child and get my fill of her preciousness.  

I am currently struggling with the beginning of a severe head cold which seems to have been passed to me from Teresa!  I'm NOT impressed with the sore throat, stuffy nose, cough, and headache combo, and ask for y'all to pray that it passes quickly!  It's very hard to be completely available for those around you when you're feeling icky yourself. I'm currently drinking some kind of funky tea with the addition of cayenne, cinnamon, and honey to try to help the situation.  At least it's soothing my poor throat.

I need to sign off and get this overdue update on it's way.  God be with you.

Kim

"With all the resources of an infinite God available to them that ask, we timidly beg for pennies when we could write checks for millions, and strike a match when we could have the sun."  Peter Marshall

4- of patients and clinic experiences

"Though the dark brings grief,

And the valley is filled with the shadow of death,

There remains a greater shadow still.

       It is a deeper shadow.

       The shadow of the Almighty..

                   And in His shadow, there is rest."

This quote is hitting a tender chord with me tonight as I am tucked deep 

into the heart of Tanzania.  I am living in a very dark place that is full 

of grief.  This valley is most definitely filled with the shadow of death. 

 The power of Satan is real and sometimes it is entirely too easy to focus 

on the overwhelming sadness of the lives of the people I come into contact 

with every day. It can almost be easy to forget about the shadow of the 

Almighty that is much greater then the power of Satan. The more involved I 

become with the people here, the more their sadness and pain of wickedness 

burdens my heart.  What a relief it is to take those burdens and throw them 

on the shoulders of my heavenly Father who is much stronger then I am.

Much has happened since my last update, just over 2 weeks ago. Thursday, 

the 31st, Trudy and I bid farewell to Rachel and Rebecca early one morning 

in the cool Mbeya darkness, and began our own cycle of the day that took us 

back to our little home in the valley.  The next morning, Tim, Sheryl, and 

little Amy headed to Mbeya in their land rover to take care of some 

business, and along side of settling back in, we helped Teresa keep the 

house and the three boys that Tim's left behind.  If you remember from my 

last update, we girls had to pack up our main house in order for some 

renovating to be done while we were gone.  Well, it STILL isn't finished, 

so ever since we got back, Trudy and I have been living here at Zeiset's 

compound, and sleeping in my bedroom house at night.  All of our earthly 

possessions are piled into the little house as well, basically leaving us 

with walkways to our beds.  Yes, it's quite annoying at times, as I do find 

myself relishing order and the absence of clutter, but I'm learning that 

"in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content." 

The first few days after we returned to Ivuna, I had a makeshift clinic set 

up between the kivuli (shade porch) and living room in Tim and Sheryl's 

house, but I quickly wearied of not having space and being so disorganized, 

plus when Tim's returned, I knew we would need to come up with a better 

option.  Since our house was no where close to being ready to accommodate 

patients, and the men have been working on fixing up another house Tim owns 

in preparation for being a clinic someday, we decided to quickly clean up 

that house enough to be usable, and move in!  It has been absolutely lovely 

to have a NICE clinic, with nice rooms, lot of room, and quietness.  It's 

fast becoming my little domain, and even tho we had patients amongst dirt 

and clutter, (we were quick trying to finish some projects) I was so 

thankful for the space.  I decided to ignore the piles of dirt and concrete 

left behind by the fundi. :)   I began painting some of the walls, and am 

thrilled with how fresh and welcoming it's starting to look.  Give me some 

time to add some Swahili teaching posters, and to paint a Bible verse in 

Swahili on the wall, then I'll send some pictures. 

Clinic.  You know, I knew I would be stretched, and I knew I would find 

myself out of my comfort zone, but more and more, I'm finding myself thrown 

into new situations and dealing with cases that I feel so unprepared for. 

 I am learning to lean even more heavily then ever on God, and it's very 

good for me.  It's hard to prepare to be the highest and only trained 

professional in a setting where there's very little back up...and to only 

be an LPN!  I'll admit I've had times when I've wrestled with a lot of 

questions as to WHY I ever felt I could do this.  But without fail, each 

time my wrestling all boils down to the fact that God has very clearly led 

me here, and He has promised His strength will be made perfect in my 

weakness.  I'm relying 150% on that promise.

They arrived on motorcycle.  Two motorcycles, actually- each one loaded 

with 3 people.  I was focused on another patient at the moment, and except 

for a fleeting thought of "oh no, this is something bad", I didn't think 

much of the group  until it was time for me to examine them and see what 

the problem was. They were ushered into the room, and as we began hearing 

the stories and I started pulling back kanga's and removing the coverings, 

my stomach dropped as I realized the extent of the burns we were dealing 

with.  The story went that the mother was carrying her child on her back 

when she "fell" into the fire.  What the truth is, we don't actually know, 

but I do know that either she was extremely drunk when it happened, or else 

she was kicked, to be as severely burned as she was.  It was agonizing.  It 

had been 2 days since the accident, and other then a little local "dawa" 

(medicine), absolutely nothing had been done for them.

    I bandaged the child first.  Little Miriam was small for her four 

years, and very cooperative, something I've not found much of in my young 

patients.  Her entire back and bottom, and mostly down the back of her legs 

was burned, as well as her one arm, and spots on both ankles.  I was able 

to get her well coated in B&W salve, and bandaged decently.

    Then I turned to her mother, and as the layers of kanga's came off, I 

realized we were dealing with an extremely severe case, and I estimated 

skin surface to be at least 50% burned.  I quickly saw that it was more 

then I could handle.  Maybe, if she would've come to me right away, I 

would've been able to heal her off with the B&W, but the delay in coming 

for help had set her back so far.  Her one arm was burned the entire 

circumference, thus was cutting off circulation to her hand, which was 

already double the size of her other one.  Infection was setting in, and I 

realized that if she didn't get help soon, she would be loosing that arm, 

as well as possibly her life.  I bandaged her as best I could, and gave 

clear, non-questionable commands to get her to town as soon as possible, 

then took a deep breath, and cried as I watched her get back on the 

motorcycle on which she had come.  Her seat was completely burned, and the 

thought of her riding that cycle was more then I could handle, but I had no 

better option to give her. 

    I've been bandaging Miriam for a week now, and am very pleased with her 

progress.  When we asked about her mom today, the ladies simply said she's 

still alive and good.  What that means, I don't know.  I only pray that 

she'll pull through.

This past Saturday was a very stretching day for me.  My first patient was 

a young, timid Sukuma woman, accompanied by 2 big men (the Sukuma are a big 

people!).  I first confirmed the miscarriage they feared had happened 3 

weeks ago, then moved on to the most important subject of her continued 

bleeding. Once again, I realized I was dealing with a case that was beyond 

my capacity to handle in my simple little clinic, and gave them 

instructions to get her out to a bigger hospital with more advanced 

equipment.  I felt so bad to be the bearer of bad news, and desperately 

wished I could help them more, as I felt I hadn't done anything.  But upon 

releasing her, the men (her husband and father), both couldn't thank me 

enough.  The father actually gave us an extra 1000 tsh on top of our normal 

500 tsh fee, "just to get chai and maandazi for all we did".  I was touched 

by their gratefulness and the obvious care they took over the dear girl. 

 Love and care to other human beings is something not seen very often in 

this culture, and it gave my heart a much needed boost to observe people 

actually caring for another person. 

     The morning passed with several other more routine patients, as well 

as some down time to study Swahili, then Trudy and I locked the clinic and 

headed to Zeiset's for lunch. I wasn't even done eating my rice and fish 

stew when a motorcycle showed up at the door with another pregnant woman in 

trouble.  I quickly finished my food and hiked the 10 minutes to the other 

side of the village where my clinic is now located.  Examination and 

questioning showed us that she had a hard fall the night before during a 

fight, and was in a fair amount of pain.  I used my doppler to find a 

heartbeat- which, PTL, was strong and healthy!  It took a lot of 

questioning until I finally realized that it was not labor pain she was 

feeling (she still had several months to go before her due date), but 

muscle pain from the fall, but I decided I wanted to observe her for at 

least an hour to be sure.  I got her comfortable on my clinic bed, sent the 

two men who accompanied her to kill some time, and settled in beside her to 

watch. She fell asleep immediately, poor woman, and slept hard the entire 

hour away, awakening feeling a lot better.  I prayed for wisdom as I 

watched her sleep, and when she awoke, decided to just strongly enforce a 

lot of rest with her feet up, as well as an immediate trip to a larger 

hospital should she begin labor pains.  Once again, I was showered with 

thanks for everything I had done, and once again I felt like it wasn't 

much, and I wished I could do more.  One of the other girls reminded me 

that in this culture where people aren't valued, showing some compassion 

and giving time can go a long way in making people feel loved and cared 

for.  I was thankful for that reminder, as I constantly am wondering how I 

can show love when I can't even speak much of the language yet.

Today I dealt with my first malnourished baby- 3 months and 4 1/2 pounds. 

 He made me so sad.  I worked with his mother for several hours, attempting 

to teach her how very important it is make him eat even when he's weak and 

falls asleep easily, (because she had milk, and he was still able to suck), 

and eat often, It's a desperate feeling to try so hard to get a naive 

mother to realize how important it is, especially when the life of her baby 

was laying very close to the edge. 

My mornings are spent actively involved in the clinic, and I'm often 

mentally and emotionally weary once the morning is over, but I love 

dropping in at Joyce's to greet her and squeeze baby Beatrix... or in at 

Mama Wini's to give little Silivana a hug.  I love "my" babies, and won't 

miss a chance to squeeze them, and to greet their sweet mama's.  I love to 

throw the mat out in the shade of my bedroom house and "study Swahili" 

there, but more then happy to be interrupted by the school students walking 

by on their way to and from the river with water, or any other neighbors 

who happen by. (Unless, of course, it's an annoying man, then I'm all too 

pleased once he's on his way.)  I blunder around with my limited Swahili, 

understanding much more then I can begin to form into words myself.  I love 

throwing the mat out in Tim and Sheryl's courtyard after dark and 

journaling by the light of the candle and the current full moon.  Until the 

journaling is discarded in favor of a heart to heart chat with fellow 

laborer's- don't ask how late Teresa and I were out there the other 

night!:)  So yes, I feel overwhelmed on a regular basis, but I also find so 

much joy and fulfillment in my life that the good times tend to outweigh 

the bad.  

Pray for me as I relate to the many people that fill my life- whether it be 

my patients, the neighbors, the young people, the countless children, or my 

fellow missionary team.  God is refining me greatly and I'm finding some 

rough edges that I didn't realize were there, and while I'm thankful for 

that, it's not exactly easy.  I need wisdom and patience beyond my human 

capacity, and am so VERY grateful to serve a God who never changes, even 

when life seems to change daily. 

God bless you today!

Kim

3- Hello from Ivuna

What to do when there's so much that has happened that you can't even
begin to figure out how to write an update?!  Where to start, what's
most important, what can be overlooked.  Those questions and more are
exactly what I'm wrestling with right now, and I have a feeling this
will a long update, and I'll totally understand if it bores you. :)

I'll start with some verses I just read in Psalm 27... “The Lord is my
light and my salvation: whom shall I fear?  The Lord is the strength
of my life: of whom shall I be afraid? … for in the time of trouble He
shall hide me in His pavilion: in the secret of His tabernacle shall
He hide me: He shall set me up upon a rock.  And now my head shall
mine head be lifted up above mine enemies around about me: therefore
will I offer in his tabernacle sacrifices of joy: I will sing, yea, I
will sing praises unto the Lord. … Hide not thy face far from me: put
not thy servant away in anger: thou hast been my help; leave me not,
neither forsake me, O God of my salvation … Teach my Thy way Oh Lord,
and lead me in a plain path. … Wait on the Lord and be of good
courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the
Lord.”

 I am understanding the cry of David's heart in this Psalm, as I've
felt very much the same way.  I find myself asking God many times for
His strength, His presence, and His peace that comes from hiding in
His pavilion, even when my enemies are round about me.  And what might
these enemies be?   One of the biggest ones I'm facing right now is
the overwhelming feeling of so many needs.  I've prayed often that God
would fill my heart with His heart for these people.  I've begged Him
to feel the pain He feels as He looks upon the wickedness and sin that
is rampant among the people of this village.  I want to feel the beat
of His heart, I want my heart to break with what is breaking His
heart.  That prayer is being answered, but I'm finding myself carrying
that burden and not committing it to the Lord as I should.  Pray for
me, that I will know how to balance keeping this burden alive in my
heart, yet not allowing it to sap the joy from my life.

The needs are enormous here in Ivuna.  I know we're only in one small
part of this huge globe, and these people are only a handful compared
to the rest of the world, but God loves these people dearly.  He
created them, sent His Son to die for them, and now He watches them
living their lives steeped in wickedness, and many who have a dead
form of religion.  My heart cries for these people to find freedom-
which can only come through a personal relationship with the King of
Kings. It's one thing to know there are people in Africa who live in
polygamy, who beat their wives so hard that sometimes they die, where
life is cheap, children are a bother, and strong drink is the main
“go-to” for everyone.  It's quite another to have these things
happening to your friends and your neighbors.  It's no longer faceless
African's, but eyes that bore deep into your soul, pleading for
something more. The hopelessness, the despair, the anger...it breaks
my heart.

One example is our neighbor man, who just brought his 5th wife home.
She's a young girl with huge, sad eyes, who has tried several times to
run away.  My heart breaks for her as I put myself in her shoes.
Imagine being wife number five to an old man, and not being much more
then 18.  Imagine being forced into this marriage with absolutely NO
say in the matter.  Imagine being beaten severely because you tried to
run away.  I live right next door and desperately wish I could speak
her language so I could at least befriend her.  But for now, I learn
as fast as I can, and smile to show her I care.

A friend of ours has been living in a dangerous position spiritually
and morally, and we find ourselves with him and his wife often on our
minds in prayer.  I look at him and his potential, and find myself
crying out to God that he would raise this man up to be a warrior for
the Kingdom.  Pray for Zanobi, his wife Joyce, and their adorable
little girl, Beatrice.  Pray that he would make choices that reflect a
true hunger and thirst for truth and righteousness.

How about the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach after you've
just completed a positive pregnancy test and they promptly inform you
that they don't want this baby and are going to do an abortion.
Rebecca pleaded with her to not complete the abortion and to think
about what she was doing, but we don't know if our pleas fell on deaf
ears or not.  I felt sick on my stomach for a long time after that.  I
know abortions happen every day, but it's a bit different when it's
one of your patients who just received the positive test from you.

On the flip side of the coin, I have a positive story to share!
Monday morning was a very busy clinic morning, and my when my last
patient walked in, I was feeling mentally worn out.  My patient was a
young woman who wanted a prenatal.  As I did it for her, and found the
heartbeat of her fetus on my doppler, the look of joy and perfect
delight on her face and expressed through her words encouraged me
incredibly.  She told us that NOW she can believe she's actually
pregnant, and she was so happy! It was so delightful to have someone
who was actually excited about a new life!  After she went out, her
husband came in and asked if it really is true that we could hear
something that the baby was doing inside.  He was very delighted and a
bit skeptical when we assured him that we can hear the baby's
heartbeat.  When his wife returned from getting change for us at
Kilabuni, we invited them back in and I used the doppler to find the
heartbeat again.  The father of the baby leaned in close as I searched
for the beat, and as soon as it came clearly across the speaker, his
face lit up and he bent in closer, totally enthralled in the sound of
the heartbeat of his first child.  Pray for them.  Michael and
Elizabeth are Roman Catholic, and something about the spark in their
eyes tells me that they have more then just a dead form of religion.
Pray that God will draw them to Himself and that they will raise their
family to fear the true God.

This past Saturday we hired two piki-piki's (motorcycles) and went to
the next village to attend a traditional celebration of some Maasai
friends of Rebecca's.  It was a new experience to find myself immersed
into a scene that felt more like it came from some missionary
biography instead of me actually living the moment!  As we arrived, we
were greeted excitedly from very traditionally dressed women.  We were
ushered into the house where immediately a strange, raunchy smell
wafted through our nostrils.  Inside the house, on both sides of the
door, lay at least 3 butchered cows in all their gory glory.  Heads
lay off to one side, and on the other side, skin was laid out, hair
side down, and the rest of the delicacies unceremoniously piled on
top. A large, healthy crop of flies swooped and landed, buzzing loudly
as they enjoyed their endless feast.
        We were greeted by streams of beautiful Maasai women dressed in their
traditional dark purple and royal blue wraps tied over the one
shoulder.  I was struck again with the strength and beauty of these
woman.  And once again, I was a bit ashamed of my own wimpy American
self!   We were served chai and chapati, and eventually taken down the
trail a bit to where the traditional dancing was taking place. We
watched with fascination as the scenes unfolded.  The men jump
straight up and down over and over to the beat of the music they're
making with their mouths.  It sounded somewhat like the beat of far
off, approaching drums.  Close by, the women sang and danced slowly to
their own rhythm.  It was exactly like you would read about in
storybooks of old time African tribes.  The main differences were the
presence of cell phones and piki-piki's, which looked strangely out of
place surrounded by people in traditional garb.
        Sometime toward late afternoon we were served a feast of seasoned
rice and beef.  I laid aside my qualms and ended up really enjoying
the meat, even tho the pile of it's counterparts were becoming
steadily more odorous behind us. After eating, we watched the dancing
for quite awhile more before our piki's came back to pick us up and
take us home.  I feel blessed to have been able to catch a glimpse
into the lives of one of the semi-nomadic tribes that live in the bush
around our village.

We've enjoyed a lot of good times as a group as well.  With four girls
living together, you can imagine that there's never a dull moment!
Late night talks, inside jokes, laughing till the tears are
streaming... it seems like anything we do becomes a party! It will
change tho in just 2 weeks when Rachel and Rebecca return to America
for a 3 ½ month furlough. I will miss them terribly, and the challenge
of carrying on the work will fall on the shoulder's of Trudy and I.
It's hard not being able to communicate well, but I'm excited as I
find myself steadily picking up more of the conversations around me.
Tim and Sheryl and their family returned to the village just over a
week ago after spending 2 weeks in town, and we have been thankful to
have their lively family back again.

Wednesday, late afternoon, I had a patient come in who said she was in
labor.  Her baby was lying transverse, and without a lot of high tech
equipment, I had really had no way of knowing exactly how hard her
labor was and how fast it was trying to progress.  All I could think
of was that this was a strong, young Sukuma woman who handle pain very
well, and if she says she in labor and looks very uncomfortable as her
labor pain come and go, then I didn't want to take any chances.  We
made it very clear that she must go to the big hospital in town
tonight yet, and to make a long story short, we ended up taking her
out in Tim's Land Rover.  Now, town trips are usually well thought out
and planned for quite a while in advance, and for Zach, Beka, and I to
have packed overnight bags, loaded up a patient and some family
members in less then an hour and be on the road, was a crazy feeling!
About a half hour from our village, we were stopped in another village
waiting for her husband to join us, and I decided to do another
doppler check.  The heart beat was still in the previous position and
the baby hadn't moved at all.  Finally, we were able to load up
everyone who needed to come along, and away we sped.  Sped? Well,
maybe, but maybe not.  Those bumpy roads are nigh impossible to speed
over, especially in the big, burly Land Rover.  It got dark pretty
fast, which increased the stress level, and I felt bad for Zach, who
had the “privilege” of being ambulance driver.
        We arrived at the hospital around 11:30 pm, and took her right into
the labor and delivery ward where they examined her...only to find
that her baby had turned during that awful ride to town, and now was
in perfect position.  I had very conflicting feelings about then...one
part of me was thrilled she wouldn't have to endure a c-section,
another part kinda wished she wouldn't have been totally out of danger
because it made me look like I didn't know what I was talking about!
I just couldn't help but feel that I had made the right decision based
on where everything stood at the time, and I'm trying not to doubt
myself.
        By that time, we were exhausted, even more so as I handed the
responsibility over to higher trained personnel, and our 20 minute
drive to the next town where fellow missionaries live was a bit
comical.  It was after 1:00 till we crashed for what was left of our
short night.  The next morning we enjoyed a delicious breakfast that
Anna prepared, enjoyed catching up with the missionary team in Mbeya
for a few minutes, then Beka and I headed back to get a lorry to the
village.  We arrived home around 7:30pm.  We were still trying to
process that we had made the strenous trip to town, and now w we were
home again! (Zach returned on a lorry the next day, and our Land Rover
is planning to return next week when Melvin comes back to the village
to bring some more supplies for the water tower he is helping put in
here.)

Friday morning, Beka and I were still very worn out.  I was still
exhausted physically, and mentally the thought of having to meet one
person made me want to weep.  Beka wisely suggested we shut up the
house and go down to our church building where we can lock the door
and spend some quiet time for a few hours.  So that we did.  We packed
up our journals, laptops, and Bibles and sat down there.  Slowly, as I
journalled and processed the happenings of the past few days, I began
feeling my brain clearing up and the cobwebs disappeared.  We talked
for awhile, laughed a bit, and drank African masala chai together and
finally I was ready to face life again.  I'm so thankful for renewing!

Not all days are that adventurous, thank the Lord! Lots of time is
spent in language study, washing laundry by hand, carrying buckets of
water for our daily needs, eating, and spending time with people.  I
have been finding myself falling hopelessly in love with this place
and the people who live here.  Sometimes I feel pretty sure I never
want to leave.  :)  Of course, I don't know what God's will is for the
future, but for now, I feel VERY thankful that this is where He has
called me.  There's a wonderful team to work with, beautiful people to
learn to know, and a language that is slowly beginning to make sense.
There's the simplicity of the dusty village, the beautiful blue sky,
the colorful patterns of the women's kanga's.  Yes, there are a lot of
needs and pain this village, but every day is touched with the beauty
of the handiwork of God, and His love is declared through it all.

Pray for us, that the name of the Lord be magnified.
Kim